Lords of the Water Mark

Liz sighed massively. If she walked away from this man, she was pretty much guaranteed to be the one conducting his autopsy when someone found him. On the other hand, if she let him come with her, he was going to want to talk. Bloody Catch-22 again.

She turned and started walking after the mutant. After a few seconds she looked back at the bemused PI. "Come on, if you're coming."

 

She turned and started walking after the mutant. After a few seconds she looked back at me. ” Come on, if you're coming." she said.

” Splendid! Come Sam, we are going to the nearest settlement.” I told Sam.

While we were walking to that place, I took a glance at this girl. She (I still did not know her name) seemed to be introvert, and extremely anti-social. I presume that she must have a good reason for this. Judging by the way she looked at me, her dexterous hands, and dried stains of medicines like Chems on her sleeves, this woman is a doctor.

” So, what is a good doctor like you doing in this blasted desert...miss...? I did not catch your name.”

 

"Liz," she told him bluntly and without emotion. "I'm a wandering medic, and right now I'm lost."

She was only paying about half as much attention to the conversation as she probably ought to have been. being somewhat preoccupied by the need to restock when they found a town. Her supply of Chems was criminally low, and most of the plants she'd managed to find over the last few days were just plain useless. There was only so much she could do with scalpels and thread.

"So, what happened?" she asked, hoping he'd pick up that she meant the case he'd been working on. Despite herself, she was curious. People would kill each other and go to great lengths to cover up the strangest things, and sometimes local vices were good to know.

 

"I expected to meet a friend here... Wanted to say hi." The man was backing out through the glowing doorway, both barrels perfectly stable. "Neither of you looks like my friend though. So I'll just leave."

The clerk asked,
You, eh...know that guy?
All of this action and Howard didn't have a gun ready. In this case, there's always next time.
Men armed in that fashion tend to get information from people afraid of the unknown, and end up breaking doors down in drug stores.
Howard shrugged. Wiggles snorted at the man walking out the door, then hopped back on Howard's shoulder.
He thought it might be best to leave the apothercary to spare the owner further grief, but not before he got some supplies.
I need;
4 Stimpacks
2 Psychos
1 Antidote
He had two alloyed armors in his pack, and those would be easy to sell after a proper demonstration against his weapons. The proper course of action may be to get a contract with the town guard, and perhaps hired guns.

 

Since he'd obviously gotten there first, and didn't see them anywhere he looked, Svensson assumed he'd lost his persuers out in the desert. It didn't surprise him; it wasn't easy to find the settlement if you didn't know where it was (in a valley sorrounded by particulary high dunes of sand, that was). He nodded to one of the guards, who immedietly recognized him and let him in, and set off towards the nearest bar. Hopefully, the bartender wouldn't give him the same treatment he'd given the ghoul last time.

 

Water was all Simon could think of, he had been wandering the wastelands for what felt like an eternity. His canteen of fresh water had run out two days ago and he did not want to have to start drinking that irradiated crap. Desperate times call for deperate masures though and soon he found himself by what looked to be an irradiated pond. Kneeling down and letting out a deep sigh of disappointment, he leaned closer to the pond. He did not want to drink this however the portable church consisting of a large cross and a very heavy suit case full of chalices and silver plates was too much to carry without some type of hydration.

Just as Simon was about to take a sip from the irradiated pond his body spasmed away from it. He could not bring himself to drink it no matter how thirsty he was. He didn't even know how far the next settlement and therefore Rad-Away would be. Pondering what would happen if he lay in this sun for much longer, Simon gathered his strength and stood up, clutching the large cross and throwing it over his left shoulder, he picked up his suit case with his right hand. His black pre-war suit was now even more dusty than usual after this sun-bathing antics next to the pond. One foot in front of the other, thats all he had to do, keep this up and surely he would run into a town, or at the very least some form of life.

Two hours later Simon's legs gave away, he couldn't do it anymore, collapsing to the ground, thoughts of simply giving up began to overwhelm his mind. Like any priest on the verge of extinction, he pulled himself up into a kneeling prayer stance, lowering his head, he began chanting his last rites just like he was taught. Although he recited the scriptures, he was praying in his mind for somebody to find him and save him.

 

“Some days ago, I had a secret visit from Sir Reginald Wellington. He was very worried about his brother and his son because he had not heard from them for a long time. Usually they come to visit him or send lengthy letters but now nothing.”

” What letters? “ I asked Sir Reginald. “Oh!” he answered ,” Mostly ordinary letters but now I think about it, often applications for expensive medical equipment. I have a great influence in the medical world, so I can fill out most of them and send them back without any trouble.” "He told me before I could ask if it gives any trouble.”

” There were no suspicious applications?” “No!” Sir Reginald answered ” Any doubts about what they were doing? “ I asked. ” What are you driving at? They are highly respected academics in the world of science, not some local commoners from the street!” Sir Reginald yelled at me. ” There was something wrong here. “Do you have any of those letters in your possession?” I asked him. “ No, they are private.” he told me.

” These letters can give me some insight into their personalities” I told him. Sir Reginald sighed and said “Okay, let me tell you something about them. I and my brother Griswold don’t get along really well. He is cold, selfish, and cares more about his little projects, and science then his close family. His son, Michael is even worse. Here are their pictures.”

” Can you tell me more about them, or which kind of project are they working on now? “ He told me that he had said enough about them, and that he did not know what the latest project was. ” Now if you excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Goodbye, and do contact me, if you have some news.” Sir Reginald said, and left my office.

” Next day, I visited their house. There, I found his brother lying cold and stiff on the stairs of the house. Dead. No sign of his son, but I found the maid. Her mind snapped. I called the coroner.”

” The coroner told me that Griswold died a month ago. Cause of death was suffocation. Also a small puncture-mark was found on the inside of Griswold’s left wrist, of size and placement consistent with the use of a hypodermic syringe. No bruising or bleeding was evident, so probably the injection was made after death. The corpse showed post-mortem lividity, indicating that the body laid face-up for some hours after death. The fall was sufficient to have caused death had the body been alive when it fell or was dropped off the roof.”

” In the kitchen I interrogated the maid, and she told me something weird” “My master was very ill. You would not…be very well either…if you had no blood.” Under her fingernails I found organic material. Through an analysis identifies the substance as human tissue contaminated by traces formaldehyde and other chemicals which belong inside no living human."

” Through this and with the autopsy report (who indicated that he died from suffocation) I came to the conclusion that Griswold could not have attacked the maid nearly twenty-four hours after his death.”

“There were no suspicious applications, in the house?” Liz asked. “There were some evidence, but I took only a deed of their new lab in The Dry Hills with me. Everything else must be there in this lab.” I said.

“Two days, later the body disappeared from the morgue, and important evidence was missing. (including the autopsy report.) I told the lads that I was going to find their lab, and then my transport got poisoned. This means that there is a traitor among them."


[OOP: Sorry, but I could only find some of the grammar mistakes.]

 

Liz blinked a few times. His story was a medical impossibility, but she of all people knew that medical impossibilities had a nasty habit of turning up far too often. This was the Wasteland, after all, and the utterly bizarre happened nine times in ten.

"Peculiar," was her only comment.

They crested a dune and below them was laid out a small settlement, guarded by men with muscular builds and massive weapons. She was rarely so happy to see armed guards. They moved to block her way, and she smiled coldly.

"I'm Liz Greyson, a medic," she told them, and she was somewhat gratified to notice that one of them recognised the name, pushing his partner aside to allow her access. "Come on, John, we need to find some replacement Chems. He's my assistant, gentlemen, do let him through."

Alright, so maybe his crazy story had caught her interest.

 

"Peculiar," was her only comment, but I knew that she was interested.

After awhile we crested a dune and below them were laid out a small settlement that was guarded by men with muscular builds and massive weapons, who moved to block her way.

"I'm Liz Greyson, a medic," she told them, and it seems that one of them recognized the name, pushing his partner aside to allow her access. "Come on, John, we need to find some replacement Chems. He's my assistant, gentlemen, do let him through."

We entered the settlement, and began to look for an apothecary (This was to provide us an alibi.). It was Sam, who noticed the building we were looking for.

“There it is, the small shop in the middle with those flags.”

 

Liz blinked a few times, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was official, she'd lost her bloody mind. No way had the small fuzzy animal talked. She was just tired, that was it.

She led the way into the apothecary, and blinked again. The back door to the shop was utterly wrecked, the storekeep looked like he was high, and there was a... bloody hell, a huge mutant was apparently doing business. Maybe she needed to pick up a couple of anti-psychotics as well!

She leaned against the wall and waited for the... customer to finish what he'd came for.

 

And, oh joy, apparently the storekeep was high as a kite. 'Not my day' didn't really cover it any more.

She pulled a list out of her pocket, scribbled the name of a powerful anti-hallucinogenic on the end, and placed it on the counter in front of the shopkeep. "I need at least three of everything on the list," she told him without preamble.

 

Sam and I as her assistant followed Liz inside of the small shop. Everything in there has a stuffy and gloomy appearance, and some brute force wrecked the back door. Behind the counter, there was a dark man with white hair, who was helping a huge mutant. By the looks of the shopkeeper, he was stoned as a shrimp. After some time the huge mutant took his bought stuff, and left the building. Now that this customer was gone, he could help Liz.

The white-haired shopkeeper with his drug-kindled mind saw Liz and could only say “Uh, uh... Ma... ma... ma... Mahalo!” “Wow that would make a good impression.” I thought.

She pulled a list out of her pocket, and placed it on the counter in front of the shopkeeper. ” I need at least three of everything on the list," she told him without preamble.

While she was talking to that shopkeeper, I lighted one of my cloves-tasted cigarettes, and sat down on one of those chairs, and Sam (my mutated hyena colleague.) lay down next to me.

 

Just as he'd suspected he recieved immediet attention of the kind that isn't good, as soon as he entered the bar. More than a few of the common junkies stared at him with blank expressions, but they weren't the kind of people he worried about. They were the kind of people who could, if encouraged, make a lot of noise. But their abilities didn't stretch much further than that.

There were a few, though, who belonged to that dreaded category that did worry him. They were doers, not talkers. He had to act fast, and there was only two ways he could act now. He could play it tough, or he could get the hell out of there as fast as was humanly (or, in his case, ghouly?) possible.

What you looking at? he finally said while starting to move towards the bar, making sure his gun was very visible the whole time. He challenged their eyes for another moment, and then most of them looked away. A close call, but he'd made it. This time.

Whisky, barkeeper.

 

From where I sat, I could hear the conversation of Liz, and the shopkeeper, and oversee the entire store. While they were talking about the prices, I saw that a little girl came inside. She ran to Liz, and spoke to her.

"Miss ... Miss ... my daddy needs your help. Daddy and Uncle Dave brought a man with black clothes (Must be one of those priests, said Uncle Dave) into our house. They have found him in the desert. Alone. Daddy says the man is very sick and thirsty.”

“Do you know the name of this man?" Liz asked.

"Yes miss, Daddy found an ID on the man. His name is Simon." she answered.